He said: "Do you know, I take the greatest interest in
cathedrals. I propose to enjoy the privilege and pleasure of
seeing _your_ cathedral early next week."

I had only to look at him to see that I was the cathedral. It was
no surprise to hear next that he thought of "paying his respects
to Mr. Gracedieu." He begged me to tell him what sort of
reception he might hope to meet with when he called at our house.
I got so excited in doing justice to papa that I quite forgot
to whisper when the next question came. Philip wanted to know if
Mr. Gracedieu disliked strangers. When I answered, "Oh dear, no!"
I said it out loud, so that the people heard me. Cruel, cruel
people! They all turned round and stared. One hideous old woman
actually said, "Silence!" Miss Staveley looked disgusted. Even
kind Mrs. Staveley lifted her eyebrows in astonishment.

Philip, dear Philip, protected and composed me.

He held my hand devotedly till the end of the performance. When
he put us into the carriage, I was last. He whispered in my ear:
"Expect me next week." Miss Staveley might be as ill-natured as
she pleased, on the way home. It didn't matter what she said.
The Eunice of yesterday might have been mortified and offended.
The Eunice of to-day was indifferent to the sharpest things that
could be said to her.

. . . . . . .

All through yesterday's delightful evening, I never once thought